


The Good Boys

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn’t mean to start… whatever this is... but it's hard not to say how <i>good</i> they are, when they are both so very <i>good</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, someone mentioned Derek and praise kink on tumblr and I don't even remember who and then this came out. I just can't get past the idea of Jackson and Derek doing everything they can for that praise they so desperately need. And of course, I don't own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

Stiles doesn’t mean to start… whatever _this_ is.

Maybe he can blame it on the faeries. Or the faerie juice, which isn’t actually _juice_ so much as the shit that falls off when you shake a sprite in the air too close to someone else. He didn’t _know_ , okay? No one told him that faerie dust was an actual _thing_ , so when Jackson and Derek start sneezing, he figures it’s something else. Something not related to annoying sprites, or, well, _him_.

He figures that right up until the moment when he says _you are damned good_ to Jackson and sees something light up those blue eyes. Then Derek is _right there_ and he’s picking Stiles up, carrying him back to the Toyota and gently loading him into the back seat, which would be fantastic if Stiles couldn’t walk. As it is, he’s mostly confused, but he reaches out, touches Derek’s arm before he can pull away and jokes that he’s such a good watchdog, getting Stiles out of the way.

He swears Derek preens when he says it.

Then Derek and Jackson exchange some kind of a look and they don’t let Stiles get out of the car. They take him home to the loft, where Jackson’s been staying on the couch, and they both manage to help escort him up and into the place.

Jackson brings Stiles over to the couch and gets him settled, bending down to take off his shoes, while Derek putters around in the kitchenette and yells out something about leftover Chinese or pizza.

Pizza, of course, as if he had to ask.

Jackson waits at Stiles’s feet until he says _thank you_ and then waits again until Stiles reaches out to touch his hair—get his attention—and says _no, dude, I mean it, that’s awesome, you don’t need to be on the floor_. Which is how Jackson is sitting next to Stiles, pressed up against one side, when Derek comes in with the pizza.

It’s heated up—both perfectly warm and crisp from the oven and Stiles doesn’t even want to know because he’s never had leftover pizza that tastes that good. Which he says to Derek, who just beams shyly in response and ducks his head and makes a low sound in his throat when Stiles nudges his shoulder and tells him _no really, dude, it’s good, thanks, I didn’t even realize how hungry I was._

It just gets weirder from there, because every time he _thanks_ them, they do something else. It’s almost like a competition to see who can get the most praise from Stiles. Who can _please_ him the most.

And hey, Stiles is seventeen and honestly, do they really think he’s going to just ignore this? He even asks them if it’s okay, if they’re really good with this whole waiting on him hand and foot thing. And they just look at each other and then back at him and they start doing it again—bringing him a blanket, calling his dad to say he’s okay and crashing at Derek’s for the night, making sure he’s warm and fed and having a good time.

It’s weird, but it’s nice. Stiles can’t remember the last time anyone doted on him like this, and right now he’s got two of them seeing to his every need. He thanks them profusely, offering a hand and rubbing it over Derek’s head, letting him nuzzle into it happily. Or letting Jackson press up against his side while he strokes his shoulder, telling him he _good_ he is, how _perfect_ he is.

They fall asleep on the sofa and Stiles kind of loves being squished up between them, arms and legs all wrapped together.

He wakes up alone and he does’t know what to think. He can hear them in the kitchenette, but their voices are too low to catch the words. He wishes he had werewolf hearing, but he also figures they’re banking on the fact that he doesn’t. And maybe he can sneak out before they come out and get pissed off because they were magicked up last night because it’s _obvious_ to Stiles that none of that was real.

He pushes the blankets off and stands up, and they’re both there before he can even get his balance.

Derek’s hand is on his elbow and Jackson is holding out a cup of coffee. Stiles takes it with a quiet _thanks_ and he doesn’t know what else to say. It’s awkward now. Right?

_So, faeries_. He finally says. Because that has to be it, and faerie dust is a thing.

_Faeries_ , Derek agrees, and Jackson nods.

So yeah, that’s it. Stiles offers a rueful smile and admits that maybe he took advantage of the situation and of course he’s sorry and he’ll get out of there right now because well… _awkward_.

Somehow he ends up on the couch again instead, with the blanket being offered and a discussed of pancakes versus waffles going on over his head ( _waffles, always waffles,_ Stiles tries to interject). It’s not awkward. In fact, it’s the opposite of awkward as Derek pads back into the kitchen and Jackson pulls out the remote and flicks on the TV.

_Maybe it was the faeries_ , Jackson says, so yes, magic. But maybe it was just them, too, and they both kind of liked it, and well, Jackson’s not against doing things that he likes. As long as Stiles keeps his mouth shut.

And Stiles figures it out. As long as he tells Jackson how perfect he is, Jackson will do anything to make Stiles happy. He glances sideways, not sure just how far this goes, but he’s got a healthy libido and a lot of curiosity so he whispers, just barely audible even to his own ears, _get on your knees_.

And Jackson goes.

By the time Derek comes back with waffles, Stiles has been reduced to a steady stream of whispered words about how _good_ Jackson is, and what a _perfect_ boy he is and how _pretty_ his mouth is and _ohGODhowgood_ that is. All of that. Everything. And he doesn’t even care that Derek’s watching, that he’s avidly taking everything in and _watching_ and that he somehow ends up on his knees and trying to take his own turn. But Stiles is _done_ by then, so very very done, at least for the next fifteen minutes or so, and Derek looks so stricken and Jackson looks so _hard_ and Stiles figures that maybe Derek could do a little something about _that_ instead and next thing he knows he’s praising Derek… petting his back and whispering words into his ears and just telling him what a _good boy_ he is.

The next few hours pass in a blur and by the end of it, Stiles is curled in the middle of a large bed, sticky and sated, with two happy werewolves curled possessively around him.

It just goes from there, building slowly until Stiles realizes that he looks forward to going to the loft, to the moments when Jackson and Derek do their damnedest to please him, and he honestly loves it and can’t wait to tell them just how good they are at what they do. For him. For each other.

He realizes how much they need that praise from him, and how much it means to him to give it.

He feels as if he’s still flailing around, trying to figure this out, but they all benefit from it. It’s _working_ , whatever it is, this thing where maybe Stiles is a little dominant and his werewolves are a lot submissive, but they all know one thing… Derek and Jackson are _good_. They are _perfect_. And they belong to _Stiles_.

Stiles doesn’t meant to start this thing, whatever it is, but he’s also not going to give it up. Faeries be damned, the start doesn’t matter any more. Derek and Jackson _need_ him, and Stiles just wants to be as good for them as they are for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
